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WOODLAND AND MFADOW 



By 
W I [ IXCOr.N ADAMS. 

WOODLAND AM) MKAlJOW. 

<^ut-oM)(ior Papers written i»ii a New Hainpsliirc I"arin. Richly 
illustrati-,1 witli pli(ili>i;raphs Ircini nature by the autlmr and 
"tlliTs -ltd. tloih cU-oiratril. lull t;ill. in a h.)x, %'.M 

SlXl.lCIl T AM) SHADOW. 

.\ Hixik f..r l'li(itoi,'rapliers, .Ainjleur anil Professiimal. Illus- 
trated by more than tme hundred e.xcjuisite half-tone pimto- 
ennravinys in.ni orii;inal phot"(;raphs from nature. Third 
lh..usan,l. ■do. elolli deeorated, full gilt, in a bo.\, $8.50 

l.X .\.\TLRKS IMACl-:. 

I hapters on Pictorial l'lioli>);ra|»hy. Illus'.raleil by liall-tone 
photo enj^'raviiijis from original phtiioL'raphs. 

Uo, cloth decoratctl, full {^ilt, in a l>o\, $-J.r>0 

.\M.\Tl-:rR PHOTOGRAPH V. 

A Practical (Juide for the Heyinner Illustrated. Tilth 
lll""--i"d. Paper, "lOc. ; cloth, $1.00 

'I'lIK FOUR SKASO.NS. 

-\ Scries of Artistic Landscapes from N.uure. the nejialives by 
W. I. I,iN((»i.N Ad.^ms, reproduced in photogravure. Printed 
on e.Mra heavy plate paper, isi/c. II .x 14 inches, suitable for 
'raniini;. Sold singly or in sets, ."illc. |>er copy laiiv |ilatei. 

The set of lour, .■?!.. "id 

.MOXTCLAHi. 

A ("ollectitin of Photogravures front Xalurc. the ne;iati\es by 
\y. I. l.iscoi.N .Ai.AMs. These plates adei|uately illustrate the 
pictorial jihases <if this (licturesijue town. The collection includes 
about thirty ijiclurcs, printed on heavy plate paper, hound in a 
specially (Usii.'neH cover. $4. On 



Sc-in ])iist|)iii(l (in fc'tc-ipt nl' jiriLX' by 

THIC BAKER iV T.WLoR I'oMI'A.W. 

IT !-:ast iTth Street. Nkw York. 




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WOODLAND 



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MEADOW 



our OF DOOK PAPKHS 

W KllTKN ON A 

NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM 



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W. 1. LINCOLN ADAMS 

AITMOU .■!■ 

•• SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW." 
•IN NATrRR'S IMAC.K. ■ KTC. 

Il.l.LlSTKATKl) UlTII I'l lO riH.KAl'HS H<OM V> 
15V IHK ALiTHOR ANO OT.W'KRS 



N !•: W \' ( > K 1< 
Till- HAKKK AXD T.Wl-OR CoMl'ANV 

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THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS. 
Twu Cof-.tA HtceivED 

OCT. 9 1901 

COPVRIOHT eNTHV 

CLftSSCL.-XXc f*^. 
COPY B. 



CliI'VUliMII 111. I()()I 

i;v 

I'm H\K1.K iV T.\Vl.r>U CoMI'A.NV 



AI.I. KUilriS KhiKK\i;iJ 



IHKW UK NTVI.KS a (.ASM, NKH \,.| 



TO 
MY WIFE 



PREFACE 




HE foUowinj^ papers, and 
the photographs which 
illustrate them, are of- 
fered in book form, not 
as an attempt to ade- 
quately describe the 
vnrious phases of Nature 
and life on a New 
England farm. The 
volume is put forth 
rather as merely sug- 
gestive of some of the 
interests which attach 
to life on a New Hamp- 
shire hill farm as we have happily found it. It is a 
life which possesses a perennial charm tor those who 
have experienced it ; and apparently at present is ex- 
erting its beneficent inliuences over a constantly in- 
creasing number of dwellers in the city. 

The author wishes gratefully to acknowledge the 
svmpathetic co-operation, in the i)reparati()n ot this book, 
especially of the illustrative features, of liis wife, Daisy 
Wilson Adams, and of his life-long friend, Benjamin 
West Kilbnrn. Others have also most generously 
granted the use of ])hotographs which appropriately 
illustrate the pages they were selected to embellish. 



W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS. 



Iln.i TOP Farm, 

Li ill ETON, N. H. 
July, 1901 



CONTENTS 



1. riiK Ni:\v E.\(.i.AM) Farm 



II. Ix THK SUCAK Cam I' 



III. Ax Eakiv Morxim; Rihe 



1\\ In THK Han-Fiiild 



Y. Harvkst[M(; iiii; CoKX 



\'I. Ax Autumn Walk 



VII. The Gui.dex Hour 



VIH. At Dusk 



rAi:K 

•5 



IX. Whex rr Rains 



X. Phoiograi'hixc ox the F.\r.m 



XI. Winter Days 



0/ 

49 
57 
65 
75 



91 



101 



1 1 



List of Illustrations 



A Nkw HAMrsiiiHE Faum, - - - - - Jl. //'. Ki/hitrii, . . . ^ 

HiLLToi' Fakm, ------ //•. /. IJiuoln Adaiiis. - - i(, 

"A Pkktty Litti.e Lakk Which Nr.sriKs Amon : tiif, Foothu.i.s," 

/j. W. Kilbiirii, - - - I'j 

The Little Red ■' Dekstiuck " SriiiiDi., - - ;/'. [. Lnno!)! Adams, - - 20 

An American Elm, ------ •• ■■ . - 21 

The Farmstead, ------- Daisy Wilson Adams, - - 23 

The Sucar Camp, - ----- L. F. Brt'lniicr, - - - 26 

An Olii-eashkined Sucar Camp, - - - />'. //'. Ki/hiini. - - - 28 

A '■ Gathering" Scene, . - - . ■■ •■ . - - 29 

An Improvised Camp, ------ ■• " . - . -;o 

A " Sugakino-oee " Party, - - - . ■• •■ - . . ^^ 

The Country IIii;h\vav. ----- /(■. /. Limoln .\dams - - 32 

"The Appearance oe Winter Spill Lingers on phe Hill Farms," 

\V. I. Lincoln .Idai/is. - - 3; 

Coming Home, -------//. 6'. Dicfciidin-f, - - 35 

" Our Mountain Metropolis, " - - - W. I. Lincoln Adams. - - 3S 

Mother and Bap.y, - - ----- - ----- ji 

A Good Shepherd, - - - - - I'. II'. Kilbiirn, - - . ^3 

In THE Wiiims, ------- ;;'. /. Lincoln .\danis. - - 44 

Going to Pasture, W. Liraybi'ookc liailcy. - 46 

Harvesting, ------- L. Christ Dchnonico, - - 50 

In PHE Hay-eield, ------/)'. W. Kilhurn. - - - 52 

" Little Farmers," ------ Daisy Wilson .Idanis, - - 52 

A Hillside Farm, - - - - - - B. W. Kilhurn. - - - 53 

An Ox-team Load, --.--- ■■ " . - . 53 

Cutting THE Hay, ------ Llewellyn Morga)i. - - 54 

The Haymakers, ------ T. J. Preston, Jr.. - - - 55 

The Corn-field, H. F. Porter, - - - 5S 

"Stuc-KED," ------- Alfred Clements, - - - Oi 

The End "]■ Day, - . - - Georx'e IV. A'orris, .11. D., - 63 



I.lSr OK II.I.l S'IKA'IIONS 

fA<iK 

El iu> Laki., Fkam iiMA Miii.M.M.Ns, - - l.rslic I lalt li. - - - • f)4 

Pi.iir(;iiiM:, - - ■ - - - - //'./. Lineal ii Ailiims. - 66 

A 'I'll' i|;mI i.llKklli, " " . . 68 

(inA/.INC, " " - 6q 

A Hi>u i.riKU, - Ihiisv W'ilsnii Aitaiin. - 70 

Kkkns, ■• •• " - 71 

Di;i\iNc; IIiiMi: 1 mi; Cows. . . - . ;/'. /. /./iui>/ii .liiniiii. - - 72 

'I'm I 111 I I'AsiiKr., ■■ •■ - 73 

TuiiiLiii. Arllnii Wiiil'^nrt/i Sii>tl, - 7(1 

A Ni w I'"m;i.ami Lamiscai'I:. ----/.. !■'. Ihiliiiur, - . . -% 

'I'm RiiMi III I III' Ri\ i.R, (.'iiiy I!. Sliariis. - - - 80 

Sui.KI' IS li;VKMM;'s TkAM.iIII. llill K. - - /(i/lll II. iiii!l\ ... gi 

Ar 1)1 SK, /.;/'. .\'/</.-i'lsii/i. - - - S4 

Twu.iimr, /. .1/. C lira'Ci-. ... gf, 

AMniNiAiN Laki:, /.'. //'. Kilhiirn. - - - S7 

Laii. IIak\ T.si T.Rs, (/(■('. //'. Xorris. M.IK. SS 

" NllW WAS 1 III \) W I )l r \K I IM. AMI I 111'. AlK 10 \l l;l;i IWM 11 Willi SlIAIIIlUS," 

(/'('('. //'. .W'lris. .\l.l)., - - S9 

Wiii-.N IT Rains, Xill/'i- .1/. C. Kiiafipiii, - ij2 

I,(lUlu^ \Vi Ai IIKK. ./. Ilorslrv llintoii. ■ - 95 

Ai ir.K Till'. SiiiiwKK, /.. ]'. k'iip/>ii-. - - - - 07 

LoDKs LiKi Rai\, - h'.slil/i- (/'. .Miiznrl. 

Oniiii Siiii mi Mil. IIiii., .... ;;•. /. I.iiuolii Adiiiiis. 

■'TiiK I'AiiiNi DiiNKKV," /.'. //'. Kilhiirii. - - - 104 

Friinhs, " "... - 105 

Tim TiKN i\ rill Rci \ii, //'. /. I.iiiiolii Adams, - - 106 

•■ WiiKUK 1 iiK Oi.ii ( )i;ciiAuii Skiu IS I in: IIii;iiu A\ ," '■ " - - loS 

Till: rARM-iiiii si:, - ' " - no 

'I'm: Smi\\-i I AI) IIii.i.s, I!. II'. I\'ill>iirii. - - - 114 

'I'm HkcioK IN \ViMi:i;. A'. Ei, Luiiuycr. fi\. - ■ 11(1 

'I'm \VA^ (II Rii-Ai IV, />'. W. Kilhiirii. - - - iiS 

1"AIK^ Fkosi wiiRK, Cluirlr.'y II. Ma.xicill, - ■ 120 

PoKiii WiNiT'K. />. //'. Killnirn, - - - 122 

\VlNll:l! TulLlLII 1 , ...... •' •• .. J22 



lr)2 



THE NEW ENGLAND FARM 




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Chapter I 



THE NEW ENGLAND FARM 




EZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH 
has said that "The best and 
most substantial property in 
the world is the New England 
tarm ; if you have one, keep 

it; if you have not, secure one; 

li\e simply and honestly, and you will li\'e long and 
prosper and enrich your soul and leave an honest name." 
And later in the same article" he gives some reasons 
for the assertion, which are, that "the time may come 
when the country will be largely divided into monopo- 
lists, dependents, and farmers, and the farmer will be 
the most independent of all men and the saving power 
of our institutions. The relief from the ])erplexing 
problems of the time is a sim])lc, honest, character- 
building, faith-sustaining life on the soil." 

And he concludes his very thoughtful i)aper. to 
which 1 refer the interested reader, as follows: "The 
permanency of the New England schools and historical 
scenerv, the assured stabilitv of her manufactories, with 



"^^ '" The Future Value of the New Enjjland F;irm " in the A ///t/uu/i Monthly Ke-itio of Ki-T/i-un for 
September, iSgg. 



17 



WOODLAND AND MEADOW 

a tendency to create tlie finest fabrics, the ])r()spective 
revival of commerce, the j^ran^e, and the enterprises in- 
cidental to these conditions ni.ake the New Enj^kind farm 
an ideal possession, 'riie New ICn.^land fanner who says 
that the farm is a thin.L,^ of the past is himself hut a 
liroduct of the past. TIk' man who has a li\e-thoiisand- 
doUar farm in New k^n^land, willi lix'e thousand dollars 
in the hank, and who will li\e within his means, is a 
millionaire, and his i)ossession and contentment are not 
unlikely to outlast that of the millionaire." 

In another article" in the same excellent ma«iazine 
from which 1 haw quoted the r.hove, Professor L. H. 
Bailey, of Cornell Uni\ersity, ])oints out that "the $200- 
a-year-income farm is a more important factor in the 
national welfare than the $5o,ooo-income farm is. 'fhe 
one is in the reach (d any industrious and intelH.Lfent man. 
The other is in the reach ot the lew. The one is sate and 
steady, ddu' other is speculative and uncertain. We need 
the moderate and modest farm to make citizens. We 
use the other to make mone\ . The lar!j;e money-making 
farm is a useful object lesson. It shows that business 
and executive ability can make money from the land 
as well as from a salt mine or a bicycle tactory. Hut it is 
a fallacv to hold it up as the ideal in .\merican farmin.u;." 

Both writers su<^;..;;est tliat the principal bcnelit to he 
derived from the New iMV^'land farm cannot be comi)uted 



♦ " Does Farming Pay ? '* 

18 



WOODI.AM) AM) MEADOW 

ill iloll;n"s and cents. iIiou.l:;!! an indrpi, ndcnt and comtorl- 
al>U' living' can l)c had on il. Il is "In make citi/A'ns," 
"to li\c ion,i;'," "to enrich vonr soul and Icaw an honest 
name," that this "simjile. honest, eharactei -huil(lin<^, 
laith-sustaininj^ lite on the soil" is recommended, 
it was tor this tliat we came to llilltoi). 
"The ,i;;lory ot tlie tarmer," according to ICmerson, 

" is that, in the 
dixision ot labors, 
it is his ])art to 
create. All trade 
rests at last on his 
])riniili\e actixity. 
lie stands close to 
nature ; he ohtains 
trom I he earth the 
l)read and the 
meat. The iood 

TlIK I.HTI.K KKU •DEESTRItK" .SfHDOI. 

By \v. I t.i«<M..N .A.>.iM* which was not. he 
causes to be. ddie tirst farmer was the first man. and all 
historic nol)ility rests on jiossession and use of land. 
Men do not like hard work, hut e\ erx* man has an excep- 
tional res])eet tor lilla<^-e. and a feeling' that this is the 
orii^inal callin,iL;' of the race, that he himself is onlv ex- 
cused trom it by some circumstance which made him 
delegate it for the time to other hands. If he have not 
some skill which recommends him to the farmer, some 




20 



THE NEW ENGLAND FARM 

product for which the farmer will give him corn, he must 
himself return into liis due place among the planters. 
And the profession has in all eyes its ancient charm, as 
standing nearest to God, the first cause." 

For preparing the youth for life the farm is hetter 
than the university. Here, as nowhere else, can the 




AN AMERICAN EI.M 



By \V. I. Lincoln Adams 



natural sciences be studied and mastered. The earth, in 
its changing seasons, lies revealed as an open book, 
which all may read. The habits and care of li^•ing 
creature and growing plant is, as it were, unconsciously 
learned. The beauty of nature, and the strength and re- 
pose of tliose who dwell close to it, is indelibly impressed 

21 



WOODI AM) AM) MKADOW 

ii]n)n the ,u,!"(>\vinj^' nouIIi. TIk' iisctul arts ot liiisl)an(li"\' : 
the c\LM"-])rL'Scnt economy of naluvL- ; and, perhaps, 
greater than all else, the endnrinj.^ health which i^ here 
stored u]) in brain and hrawn, suggest the reason lor that 
widely observed fact — the humble country origin ol most 
of the world's really great men. 

The road to llillto]) J'"arni trom the thritty little 
village which serves as the metropolis for Northern New 
llampshire. gently ascends, for three miles or more, the 
gradual slope of the Western Hills. On the outskirts of 
the \illage we pass a typical New Hampshire farm. Our 
road then winds through a silent grove of ancient |)ines, 
and past a pretty little lake which nestles among the 
foothills, a little further on. 

W'c are now out on the open countryside, and see in 
the distance the usual little red "deestrick" schoolhouse, 
with its woodhouse attached, and nearby the comtort- 
rd)le pile of winter wood. Past another wood, this lime 
of mai)le, beach and birch, and we approach the contines 
of the farm, and begin the ascent of our last hill, between 
the neat white fences which here line the highway. 
The cattle are comfortably browsing on the hillside 
beneath the spreading branches of a niagniticent .\meri- 
can elm, and the distant hills on the uppei" waters of the 
Connecticut can be dimly seen in the opening vista of 
the trees at this point. 



THE NEW ENGLAND FAHM 

We now approach the turn in the road, and the 
loveh' green foothills of Vermont, just over the river, 
lie peacefully and restfuUy before us— a view of which 
we never tire. And so on to the cozy little farmhouse 
itself, which nestles close, for shelter, just over the 
ridge, on the southern slope of the protecting hill. 




By Daisy Wilson Adams 



IN THE SUGAR CAMP 




< 



ti3 
I 



Chapter II 



IN THE SUGAR CAMP 




S the end of March approaches 
in Northern New England, and 
the snow begins to disappear 
from the exposed hills, the open 
fields and along the winding 
country highways, the farmer's 
thoughts are turned, not lightly, 
like " the young man's fancy," 
toward love ; but, nevertheless, 
toward something ecjualh' as 
sweet —toward ' ' sugaring." 

The sun now shines with a 
genial warmth during pleasant 
days, drawing the wintry frosts from the yielding earth, 
and giving to the air the mellow promise of spring. The 
nights are still cold and frosty, however, and this is an 
essential of good " sugar weather," as the sap must freeze 
at night and thaw during the day in order to "run" 
properly for making sugar. The "lingering snow" still 
remains in sun-sheltered places and is deep in the woods 

27 



WOODLAND AND M1;AD()\\ 



.iiiil i-,-i\inos. 'Tlu' .'ipiirar.-incL' ol wiiilui- is slill ]»i\'sent 

on llir hill t.'inns. 

As the season advances, the delicious sap of tlu- sujijar 

ni.iliK' l)c;^'ins to 
rise, and will soon 
dri]) freely Ironi 
the ta])s when 
lliev are a])i)lied to 




ihe trees. Suji;ar 
we.-ilher, as nsiial , 
has eonie with a 
rush, and su,y;ar- 
inakintf occupies 

AN ilI.D r.\SHI<)NKI> St(;\R ( AMI> Hy I! \V Km in kv tllC d a V S, aUd 

sometimes rdso lills the ni.i^iits of the l)us\- tarmei". The 
extra "hel])" pre\iousl\- en,Lia;.i;ed for the s])rin,ij; and sum- 
mer work is immediately summoned, the jrlistenin^j; tin 
l)uckets are (|uickly suspended from the new taps on the 
su.i^ar maples, and receive the dripping sweetness as it 
exudes from the ,!j;enerous trees. 

What sound ot Nature is more musical than the drip, 
dri]) of the sap as it tinkles on the bottoms of the new tin 
buckets at the taps. As few other sounds of the country, 
it takes the ,u;raydiaired larmer 1)ack to the wonderful 
days (d his boyhood, when he pla\ed at su,ij;ar-makin,i;- on 
his father's tarm. It reminds him ol the ever-ret urnim^' 
youth ol Nature and makes him teel young au[ain. 

28 



IN THE SrCiAH CAMP 

Soon it l)ecomes necessary to <ro around throuy;h tlie 
" sugar orchard " with the sled liearing the huge gather- 
ing tank and collect the sap from the full l^uckets at the 
trees. This is merry work, and has to be done ([uickly 
in order to save the sap from running over and wasting. 
Sometimes the snow is too deej) tor the horses to make 




A "GATHKRING" SCENE By B. W. Kiliwkn 

headway in the woods, and the sap has to be carried by 
hand to the sugar-house, the men and boys, on snow- 
shoes, carrying with ease huge filled buckets by means 
of the sap yoke, which is made to fit the shoulders com- 
fortably, and so readily sustains the weight. Sometimes 

29 



WOODIAM) AND MKADOW 

oxen arc used with tin.' ,ij;at hcrin.ii sled, as llicy can make 
their steadv way more casil\- tliroui^h the ilce]) snow in 
the woods than the more nerxous and active farm horses. 
The srip is poured into tlie stora<^e tank, which is set 
outside of the sugar house ; and if. as is usually the case, 




AN I.MI'KIIVISED CAMP 



Hy U W. Kii I 



the suj^jar camp is located on tlie side of a hill, the stor- 
a<j;e tank is placed on the upi)er side, outside, and supidies 
the "evaporator" within automatically through a ruh- 
ber tube, which is connected with a }j;o\ernor or rcj,;ula- 
tor attached to the evaporator itself. By this means, 
when the lire is started in the furnace under the cvapora- 



IN THE SUGAR CAMP 

tor, the sap begins to flow, by gravit^^ from the storage 
tank, through the rubber tube into the governor, and is 
admitted into the evaporator itself only as fast as the 
heat indicates it is being transformed into syrup. 

The evaporator consists of a number of shallow 
chambers, or pans, connected with each other, and cover- 
ing the entire length of the furnace, which may be 
twenty feet long. As the sap passes from one compart- 
ment to another, it becomes even hotter and thicker, the 
water in it passing off in clouds of fragrant steam, which 
escapes through the ventilators in the top of the sugar- 
house. At the end 
of the evaporator, 
when at the projjcr 
temperature and 
consistency, the 
beautiful amber- 
colored, translu- 
cent " honc}^ " is 
drawn off and 
strained through 
white flannel into 
a huge receiving 
vessel. After being 

cooled it becomes a ■■SUGARIN(,-0FF" PAKTV By li. W. Kilbirn 

still thicker and more sweet, and it is then poured into 
cans ot various dimensions and is made readv for market. 




31 



WODDI.Wn WD MKADOW 

I'd make sugar, the ])n)ccss is stii]i]ii.(l in \hv v\:\\h)- 
ralor a litllc hrlorr \\\c sap has hc-coiiic lliick ^.-nougli lor 
s\rii|i, ami is lluai drawn oil inlo tlir "su<j;arin<i;-c)M " p.an. 
This is an indfin-auk-nl appai'at us ()\ rr its own lilllc tur- 
nacc, and is so arranged llial tlic sap in il ina\' lie heated 




THK Cni'NTRY HIGHWAY 



liv W. 1. I.IN.MI s Al.\Ms 



U) a nincli lii,v;ht'r lcin])fralnrL' llian was ])ossil)k' in ihc 
evaporator. \\ hun it has l)cen heated to the pi'ojjer point, 
it is drawn oil into mouhls, and spontaneously ".grains" 
into \arious shaped maple sxruji eakes. This is in the 
improved mudeni method ot making the sugai^ and syrup. 



!0 
> 
Z 
O 
W 

o 



71 



> 




WOODLAND AND MKADOW 

Tlic old method of hoilin.u; llic saj) in hiij^e kettles 
out-of-doors, or in pans over an improvised "arcli," 
accomplished the same jj;eneral results, thou<rh very im- 
perfectly and with mucli j^reater etTort on the part ot the 
snjj;ar makers and with considerable loss of sap. Vuv 
when the sap is " runnin.ij; " in ,Liood suj^ar weather, it 
aceuniulates in the huekets and tank faster than it can be 
boiled into svrup unless the improxed apparatus of the 
modern methods is employed. The (juality of the syrup, 
moreo\er, depends to a great extent upon the time which 
elapses between drawing the sap from the trees and eon- 
verting it into syrup. 

If the process can be accoin|)lished in the same day, 
under the best circumstances, the syrup is an exipiisite 
pale ,-imbcr-colored liiiuid. as clear as mc^lten gold, and 
as beautiful and rich. It is redolent with earliest s])ring 
odors of the fragrant maple trees. It is the delicious 
essence of tlie tlear young earth itselt, li])erally yielded 
in response to the ardent smiles of the glowing Spring sun. 

" Wliat moistens tlie lij), 
What V)rijjlitens ttic eye. 
What brings back the past * * * *?" 

asks our dearest New K)ngland |)oet, and for the man or 
woman whose youth has been lived in N(U-thern New 
Hampshire or N'ermont, the answer, I am sure, will not 
be the one of the poem ("The Rich i'umpkin I'ie"). but. 
rather, warm nvaple honey, fresh from the boiling pan ! 

34 



IN THE SUGAR CAMP 

"The gray-haired New Englander" never tires of it, 
but, as he watches the sparkling wood tire with glowing 
countenance, seeing perhaps in the flames many another 
radiant face smiling to him from the dear past, he recalls 
those happy earlier days more vividly by tasting again 
the " pac wax" of his youth — the delicious hot syrup, 
cooled and hardened by being poured on driven snow. 




COMING HOME . By H. G. Diefendorf 



03 



AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 




O 



Chapter III 



AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 




T was Lord Herbert of 
Cherburg who declared 
that "a good rider on a 
good horse is as much 
above himself and 
others as the world can 
make him," and one 
who has experienced 
the Iceen delight and 
healthful exhilaration 
of an early morning 
gallop over the dew-jeweled fields of Northern New 
Hampshire in the youth of the year can give hearty 
assent to the declaration. 

Spring is the season for an early morning ride in the 
mountains, as October and Indian summer is the time of 
all the year for the more contemplative outing ol the 
afternoon. In May, in the country, it is easy to rise wath 
the birds. One is awakened by their garrulous twitter- 
ing at the very first approach of dawn, and, after a slight 

39 



WOODKAXD AND MEADOW 

repast, feeds, j^rooms and saddles one's own horse, in tin.' 
cool freshness of the early niorninjj;. Then follows the 
(|uick mount on an eager steed and the inspiritinj^ ckish 
11]) the hill. 

.\h. the exhilaration of those tirst lew ecstatic 
hounds! Ht)rse and rider seeni actually to be one 
creature ; a centaur is afield, and the wood nymphs are 
not far remote ! Now the su])erl) animal swin,t.:;s into a 
graceful, rhythmic trotting, as if to imaginary music, 
keeping iit^'rfect stc]), with arched neck and cur\ing tail, 
nostrils dilate, and the springing hoots seeming scarcely 
to touch the elastic turt. The rider is conscious of an 
ideal heautx' Oi action and a boundless su])])ressed 
strength and speed. A turn is made into the long tkdd 
by a slight i)ressure of rein against neck, and the resti\'e 
animal is given full tlight o\er the in\iting stretch of 
velvety green. 

•■ \i)\v wc re otV, like thi.- winds U> the plain whence Ihcy came ; 

.\iul the rapture of motion is thrilling my frame I 

()n, cjn s])ee(ls my courser, scarce printing; the sod. 

Scarce crushing a daisy to mark where he trod 1 

On, on like a deer, when the hound's early bay 

Awakes the wdd echoes, awav. and away ! 

Still faster, still farther, he leaps at my cliecr, 

'I'ill the rush of the startled air whiiTs on my ear I" 

At the lai tiler end of this tield is a vine-co\ered, 
straggling rail fence, which is so bowed with age as 
scarcely to l)e an obstacle in the course of an accustomed 
lea])er. Hut we must draw rein to allow the gallant 

40 



g 
o 

H 

> 
z 

a 

m 
> 

>< 




WOODI AM) AM) MKADOW 

courser an oiiportunil y lo collfcl hiniscll in his caj^er 
niLi;lil l)ctoi\' •■ lalcin,tj; off " at the fence. Then '^'wc him 
his head and an enconra^in;^; word as well. See him 
bound up to the place with those short, strong gallops. 
What a noble sight ! \\ hat confidence and conscious 
pride ! Then the spring. Now is the time to sit close to 
the seat. From the knei-s down the legs may hang 
loosely enough, but a tirm grip ot the saddle must lie had 
with the knees and the thighs. Bend slightlx' forward as 
your horse rises to his leap ; then straighten up as he 
tlies through the air, and, descending, thrust forward the 
stirru])s, leaning rigidly back to withstand the shock of 
landing on the other side. The rein is drawn as the 
leai)er touches the ground lo assist his recovery and pre- 
vent him ti'om tailing. 

The abandoned dash over the smooth turt is e.xhila- 
raling enough, to be sure, but what can compare with 
the " fearless leap of a fiery steed ! " 

'• I tell thee, O stranjjer, that unto me 

The jjUmge i>f a liery steed 
Is a noble thiiuj;ht ; to the brave and five 
It is niusie and breath, and majesty. — 

'Tis the life of a noble deed ; 
And the heart and mind are in spirit allied 
In the eharm of a niorninj^'s )j;lori()us ride." 

Now we are approaching the cool margins of the 
fresh spring woods. Let us slowly amble along in their 
grateful shade, as both rider and lioise are warm with the 

42 



AN p:arly morning ride 



glow of the same healthful exercise, and somewhat 

fatigued, moreover, from the fervor of the recent effort 

and excitement. How delightfnlly refreshing, this leaf}' 

solitude. We saunter along in its moist shade, the reins 

hanging idly on a muscular neck, the aiTectionate horse 

confining his pace to the steps of his master afoot. Here 

we are at the spring where the cattle come to drink, 

and where grows 

the juiciest grass. 

" You shall have 

a sweet bite, my 

brave fellow, for 

your run." and 

both horse and 

man shall have a 

cool drink. Then 

a remount and 

we're otif for the 

Hill. 

Bounding along 
at an easy hand 




A GOOD SHEPHERD 



By B. W. KiLitUKN 



gallop we gradually ascend b}' a well-trodden path. Our 
"little brothers of the air" are in full song on all the 
trees about us. The most delicious Spring odors hang in 
the cool morning air, and rest, as a blessed benediction, 
on an eager, uncovered head. We reach the dome of the 
hill and wander out to its rocky edge. What a spectacle 

43 



WOODLAND AND MKADOW 




IN 1 III. W 1 M .lis 



lU \V I. Lincoln Aija.ms 



meets our <^:\/.c ! Surely Iutc, nn a morniiiL:; like this, is 
Lord I [crl)cTl's feelin.t;' of clev.ition liiih juslilicd and 
enhanced. 

The snow-crowiit'd donicot majestic old \\'asliin,Lj;t()n, 
twenty miles awav as the ca;^le Hies, and tlu' other ])caks 
of the Presidential ran,u;e. \isil)le Irom tnw llill. are rosy 
in the mellow li.^lit ol the earh' morning:;: while the 
nearer hills of W'rnioni. on the other side ot tlie river, 
are fresh and dewv and green. The mornin;^' mists, in 
the valleys helow, are slowly lifting and melting away 

44 



AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 

before the glowin(>; rays ot the risinj^ sun. The cows are 
leisurely issuiuj^ from the yard and makinjj; their orderly 
way toward the £iccustomed tields. There is stirring 
about the barns ; doors are being opened, and shutters 
flung back at the house ; and children's voices are heard 
singing and calling. It is time to return, so we slowly 
arable down the hill and along the country road to the 
house. The sun is now well up, and the day on the 
farm has begun. 




Bright smiles and dancing eyes welcome the return- 
ing rider and horse. There are pleas lor a ride, "just to 
the barn," which are not to be denied. But there is one 
tender smile, softer and more gentle than all the rest, 
which is full of lo\ing solicitude, as the merrilv laden 
beast is carefully guided to the stable door. 

That smile always illumines our way. It is ever the 
same, knowing, helpful and tender, whether the tace of 
the sun be obscured by passing clouds, or is shining, as 
now, in a cloudless blue. 

Later in the day, during a leisure hour, I happened 

45 




GOING T(J I*ASTLRt 



By W. BRASBKUiiKt Bailev 



AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 

to pick up Mr. Edwin Markliam's "The Man with the 
Hoe, and Otlier Poems,""' and, in looking tlirough its 
fascinating pages, came u])on the following graphic 
description of a mountain ride. It so nearly described 
my own morning gallop that I decided to include it with 
the other verses quoted in these pages. It is entitled : 

THE JOY OF THE HH.LS 

I ride on the mountain tops, I ride ; 
I have found my life and am satisfied. 
Onward I ride in the blowing oats. 
Checking the field-lark's rippling notes — 

Lightly I sweep 

From steep to steep : 
Over my head through the branches high 
Come glimpses of a rushing sky ; 
The tall oats brush my horse's flanks ; 
Wild poppies crowd on the sunny banks ; 
A bee booms out of the scented grass ; 
A jay laughs with me as I pass. 

I ride on the hills, I forgive, 1 forget 

Life's hoard of regret — 

All the terror and pain 

Of the chafing chain. 

Grind on, O cities, grind : 

I leave you a blur behind. 
I am lifted elate — the skies expand : 
Here the world's heaped gold is a pile of sand. 
Let them weary and work in their narrow walls : 
I ride with the voices of waterfalls ! 

I swing on as one in a dream — I swing 
Down the airy hollows, I shout, I sing ! 
The world is gone like an empty word : 
My body's a bough in the wind, my heart a bird ! 



**'The Man with the Hoe, and Other Puems," by Edwin Markham. Published by Doubleday & 
McClure Co. Copyrighted, iSgg, by Edwin Makkham. 

47 



IN THE HAY-FIKLD 



Chapter IV 



IN THE HAY-FIELD 




WE bejrin to make hay at Hilltop about 
the lirst of Jul}', and, unless the con- 
ditions are unusually favorable, it 
re(]uires nearly the whole month to 
harvest our entire crop. The tall 
grass in the near fields around the 
buildings and along the roadsides is 
first cut with the scythe and put 
into the barn. Then the machine is 
brought forth from its winter quar- 
ters, is oiled, put into thorough repair, and haying begins 
in earnest in the larger fields more remote from the 
house, and on the hillsides. The "tedder" and horse- 
rake are soon brought into requisition, and the work is 
divided up among the men. 

If the weather is fine and hot, the grass which is cut 
in the morning may be raked into " windrows" the same 
afternoon, then stacked in the picturesque haycocks, 
and later drawn to the barns, perhaps in the cool of the 
evening of the same day. When showers threaten we all 

5' 



WOODI.AM) AM) MKADOW 



turn in and work 
with a will, often 
till darkness inter- 
venes. There is 
then an added zest 
to tlie work, and a 
merry sjiirit ot ri- 
valry as well. 

Sometimes, how- 
ever, the harvest- 
in jj; proceeds with 
more leisnre. One 
may occasionally 
pa use i n on e's 
work, perhaps it 
may l)e ot cocking 
the hay. and lean- 
in<i; on the fork, 
remove the lar<;e- 
hrimmeil hat to 
allow the sweetly 
scented breeze to 
cool one's damj)- 
ened forehead. 
How delicious is 
rest alter physical 
etfort ! Or, if one 




IN I III'. II.AV-1 IKl.l) 



l!v H. W. KiLi,in.\ 



^^^^p-^^H 




■^H 


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r^^^^^^^l 


^^^^H 


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p4S| 


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"'^^'^^''TrSfes 


jj^ ^ — ^r"^^ 



■ LITTLE FAR.VIERS" 
52 



Hy D.M^\ Wii.MiN AiJA\ 



IN THE HAY-FIELD 




A HILLSIDE FARM 



By B. W. KiLBiBN 




AN ox TEAM LOAD 



is well ahead of 
the wagon in his 
work, there may 
be time to throw 
one's self at full 
length in the shade 
of an overhanging 
tree nearby and 
there 

' ■ Sprawl out len'thways on 
the grass 

Where the shadders 're thick 
and soft, 

As the kiwers on the bed, 

Mother fixes in the loft," 

as James Whit- 
comb Riley de- 
scribes it 

Have you ever 
heard the sweet 
crescendo of the 
mowing machine, 
resting thus, as it 
is intermittently 
l)orne to you on 
the breeze from the 
distant hay-field ? 
Lazily close your 
eyes as you lie 



WOODLAND AND MEADOW 

there .'it full lcn<^tli on your brick in llie shade, or, 
dream i I \' j^lanee u]) at the infinite hlne al)ove yon. be- 
tween the patches ot the o\ LTlian,Lj;in,Lj; eano])y ot fj;reen, 
and drink in dee]) drau.Lihts of sweetest sounds and 
jier fumes. 

" Thinkin' nf nUl eliums 'ats dead 
Maybe, smiling back at you 
In betwixt the beautiful 

Clouds o' gold, and white and blue." 




ClTTINc; THE H.AV 



By Llewelyn Mokgan 



Ah I This is a l-)eantifu1 world, and it is ,o;ood to l)e 
alive in it ! I^ul here comes the wa,y;on for the last load 
of hay, and all hands fall to and till it. 

As we '^o InmberinL;; aloni,:; on our return to the l)arn, 
we are met by the children half way home, and all are 
imlled u\) on the load and inerril\- join in the ride, Ivven 

54 



IN IHK HAY-IIELD 

the dear baby is carefully lifted up, and, laughing and 
crowing, is carried along with the others on her careful 
nurse's lap. Thus do we return in triumph with our last 
load of hav. 




THE HAYMAKERS 



By T. I. PKiiSToN, Jr. 



55 



HARVESTING THE CORN 



Chapter V 



HARVESTING THE CORN 




S the September days begin to 
grow shorter, and the nights 
more cool, we prepare tor the 
approaching Autumn frosts. 
The potatoes are dug, dried, and 
stored in the cellar. The oats 
are cut, and later threshed, and 
all hands and some extra "help" 
are then summoned to harvest 
the corn. 

Field corn is "stucked" in 
regular rows in the held and left 
there to dry in the open air, 
revealing, often, the big orange 
pumpkins which gleam from the 
vines between ; but fodder corn, 
intended for ensilage, must be 
harvested, hauled to the barns, 
cut by the machine, and packed 
away in the "silo" for the win- 
ter use of the cattle, before it 
has been touched by even the 
lightest frost, else its sweetness 

59 



WOODLAND AND NIKADOW 

and much of its rcmnrkahlr nutritive jJroiitM'tics are gone. 

The j^Towth of an (.'Utirc season of this. pL'rh.-ijJS the 
most im])oitanl crop here, excejjtinu:; liaw is to he 
•fathered. It is therefore a l)usy, and sometimes, mayhe, 
an an.xious time for the farmer when he harx'ests the 
corn. The uncertainty of tlie weather at this lime, as in 
haying, is the element which adds a i)leasurea])le excite- 
ment to the work, for tlie younger men at least, and 
perha|)s lends a little more interest for all. 

The machines, drawn by strong horses, arri\e from 
a neighboring farm, where the}' have been at work, 
sometime during the night. We are aroused bv a loud 
halloeing, perhaps as early (or late) as two o'clock, and go 
out into the clear, cool night to show nur helpers where to 
j)Ul u]) their tired horses for the remainder of the night, 
and to assist them in unloading and setting u]) their 
apparatus ready for use at an early hour the next day. 
Then a few hours more of rest, and we are all up betimes 
for the work of the day. 

Division ol labor is the secret of economical effort on 
the t.'irm, as in the shop or factory, so we dix'ide our 
force tor this, as for the other work at Hillto]i. Two 
or three cutters are kejil busy in the field, cme man assist- 
ing to h)a(l the wagons. Two teams are employed to 
haul the corn, one returning emi)ty to the held, as the 
other, ladened, approaches the barn. Several hands are 
required in the barn, some to •■ feed" the machine, while 

60 




■STUCKED- 



By Ai.i-KtD Clhmems 



WOODI AM) AM) MKADOW 

olliers attciul llic ciitkT and liorsc-pow LM", and onv in llic 
"silo" ilsc'll, packing away and t read in, li; down i1k- fnu'h' 
cut corn, as il jionrs owr the top Iroin ihc " rk'Nalor " a 
{^uslun,^- stream ol Irai^ranl \c<^etation. Stalk, leaves, 
and the small jiiicy cobs of corn arc all alike cnt into 
small hits ot jicrhaps an inch in Icn.Lith, as thcv pass 
thron^i^h the rapidly moxinjj; machine. 

A second and third day are usually reciuired, as busy 
as the tirst, to ccnnpletc the work ; then a layer ol clean 
straw is placed thickly over the toji <d' the stored ensi- 
lage, and we are ready lor the Irost when it comes. 

Our cro])s are now all harvested and saleh' stored in 
the barns. The lofts are tilled to overllowin.Li; ; ample 
wood is slacked in the adjoining; sheds, and only the fall 
"chores" remain to be done. 

Time now permits of an occasional tranij) o\er the 
hills with a camera, or the more social pleasure of an 
afternoon dri\e with crowded seats tilled by closely 
hnddled little ones. 

The bright and toothsome "snow" a]iples are ri])e 
alouj;- the roadside; blackberries, cold and moist with 
Autnmn dew, are not yet entirely gone: and the beantitid 
aster and goldenrod of Septeiuber, which skirts onr way, 
are some of the treasures which are reserved tor the 
hap])\- hands ot children to gather, as their prt)per har- 
vest, on such rides as these. 

And there are other harvests still to be gathered at 

62 



HAUVESTING THE CORN 

Hilltop-harvests of the Soul that are not to be described. 
There are Golden Sunsets, Crimson Dawns ; Frosty 
Nights, as clear and pure as the glitterinjr stars above 
which iUumine them. And there are bright, mellow 
days of Autumn, with the bright, spiritual beauty and 
harniduv of changing foliage. 




THE END OF UAV 



By. Geo. W". Nokkis, M.D. 



AN AUTUMN WALK 




< 



m 



y. 



c 

D 
O 



Chapter VI 



AN AUTUMN WALK 




CMKRSON has somewhere said, in re- 
ply to one complaining tliat there 
was nothing which seemed worth 
doing, "to take a walk !" We have 
certainly realized the trnth of the 
sayings of the same genial philoso- 
l)her : "That work is ever more 
pleasant to the imagination which 
is not now reqnired," and " How 
wistfnlly, when we have promised 
to attend the working committee, 
we look at the distant hills and their 
seductions." 

In the pleasant month of October, when all the har- 
vests have been gathered, there are sometimes occasions 
wdien it is not necessary for the farmer " to attend the 
working committee," and when he can therefore yield 
to the seductions of the distant hills. At such times an 
exhilarating walk over the brilliant fields and hills and 
through the mellow autumnal woods ma}' be enjoyed. 

67 



WOODLAND AND MKADOW 




"We slmuld ,m> lorlli mi \\\v shdrtcsl walk," siivs 
hdiwiu : '■ perchancL'. in the s])iril of nndyiiiLi; achen- 

turc, never to re- 
tnrn. — i)repared to 
send l)aek our eni- 
1) aimed hearts 
on]\ as relies to 
oiii- ilesolate kinjj;- 
donis. II you are 
ready to lea\e la- 
ther and mother. 
])rollie]" and sister. 

A TH()ROl'(.HBKI'.D By \V. I. Lincoln Adams and W 1 t e a n ll ellMll 

and iriends, and ne\'er see them a^ain, — if you ha\e paid 
\'()ui" debts, and made your will, and si^'ttled all your 
affairs, and are a free man. then you are ready tor a 
walk." ()nly in the autumn ean the farmer ai)])ro.\imate 
this standai'd of freedom, and eonse'|uent !y enjoy to the 
fullest a random tramp o\ er the allurin,!^' eountry side. 

W hat a succession of pictures present themselves as 
we ramble on I First, are tlie lon<j;, snujoth stretches of 
"mow lields," reaehinjj; far up the hillside, on whieh the 
pietures(iue cattle are comfortably j^razin;j; on the rich 
"fall feed." This makes the most effective fore^jjround 
for the hills and woods be\'ond, a soft autumn sky com- 
pletinjj; the ])icture above. And w hat a keen pleasure it 
is to walk over the smooth, sprinj^injjj sward in the brisk, 

68 



AN AUTUMN WALK 

bracinj^- air ot a northern October 1 Then we come to 
the ])asture itself on the other slope of the hill, and fol- 
low the winding cow-path to the brook and the woods 
bevond it. The cattle have made excellent trails thron^^^h 
the woodlands, also, along which we can walk nnimpeded. 




GRAZING 



By W. I. Lincoln Adams 



Here we find always so much to interest. IVrhaps it 
is a flock of young partridges wdiich we startle up and 
which instantly scatter in all directions. Possibly a stray 
fox darts across our path, or a rabbit, and we can always 
witness the brisk antics of pert little chipmunks or the 

69 



\VCK)ni.\ND AM) MEADOW 



red and ll.\in^- s(iiiirrcls. The ta]i])in<^ ol the woodpecker 
on hollow irnnks resounds loudlx' ihrou.i^h forest aisles; 

ripened nuts are 
dropping on the 
dead leaves at our 
feet : the sooth injj; 
wind sways gen- 
t]\- the topmost 
branches overhead 
a n d 1 e n (1 e ]■ I y 
brushes the colnr- 
iuL!,' lea\"es to tln.'ir 
winter resting- 
place l)elow. It is 
a time to be silent 
and listen. Nature 
will speak to the 

A liOWI.DER Hy Daisv Wilson Adams rCVCreTlt SOUl. 

Wandering through the woods brings us at length to 
a clearing where timber has been cut. A further stretch 
ot woodland takes us to a more distant hill, from which 
the picturesipie little village, which is our "city," of 
Northern New England, can he seen, as the eagle sees it 
from the crags, nestling among the foot-hills below, 
along the winding river's conrse. 

We return by the country highway in the waning 
light oi the autumn afternoon, and our shadows, growing 

70 




AN AUTUMN WALK 

long on the road at our backs as the sun settles down 
before us in the west, we are reminded, l)y the golden 
light, of that memorable walk, not unlike our own, which 
is described by Thorcau in his classic essay on walking. 
"I was walking in a meadow," he writes, " the source of 
a small brook, when the sun at last, just before setting. 




FERNS Hy D.\ls^ Wiis.iN Adams 

after a cold gra}^ da}', reached a clear stratum in the 
horizon, and the softest, brightest morning sunlight fell 
on the dry grass and on the stems of the trees in the op- 
posite horizon, and on the leaves of the shrub-oaks on the 
hillside, while our shadows stretched long over the 
meadow eastward, as if we were the only motes in its 

7' 



WOODLAND AND MKADOW 

l)eam. ■"■ ■" ''■■ WC w.-ilkcd in so pure ami l)ri,!j,iit a 
li.^li' .^"il'liii,^ 'li'-' \villK'i"r(l i^rass and lca\'es, so sollly and 
serenuh- hri^hi, I iliou.i^ht 1 had nc\cr bathed in such a 
5j;olden flood, without a ripple or a murmur to it. 1 he 
west side ol e\'er\' wood and rising ground Lileame(l like 
I he houndarv ol' Eh' slum, and the sun on our hacks seemed 




DKIVINT, HiiMK THE COWS Uy \V. I. Lincoln Adams 

like a gentle herdsman dri\in^ us home at e\enin,i;;." 
And so we return to oni' home in tlu.' tender twili.i^lit. 
and, as we draw near, the cows are seen u ending:; tlK'ir 
la/.v wav harnwards, dri\en from the pasture, with many 
shouts and ij;estures, hxtwosm.dl farmers who teel \erv 
])\<^ in the independence ol their u^elul occniialion. 



X 
PI 



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P! 



^^^^^^^^^^^^Hj^^^^^mH^^HflB 


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H'# 




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THE GOLDEN HOUR 




rWlIJGH 1 



Uy AKiHiK \Vl■.^^^^oKlll Sen 



Chapter VII 



THE goldp:n hour 





# 



J 



HE evening meal over, we as- 
cend the hill to \ie\v the splen- 
dors of the sunset hour. 

A bank of softest cloud 
rests lightly ^n the Vermont 
hills across the liver, and in It) 
it, as on a bed of down, the 
glowing sun is slowly sinking. 
Iri^Vii^^S^ •'v-v*5»»^ NUnv appears the faintest blush 

H^^^^P* ••^^^ *^^ ^ most delicate ])ink suffus- 

ing the western sky. This 
tender color gradually deepens as the sun slowly settles 
lower into his evening resting place, and a redder tint is 
given to the surrounding clouds. 

Slowly mounting higher toward the zenith, and ex- 
tending farther along the horizon on both sides of the 
sun, this suffusion of red changes to more brilliant tints, 
until ere long a gorgeous crimson paints the evening sky. 
The sun is now breaking through little irregular rifts 
and openings in its splendid enveloping cloud forms, 
transforming their edges to immaculate gold, and bathing 
all the skv between in an ideal flood of golden glorv. 



77 




<: 
u 
</> 

Q 
T. 

< 



Z. 

< 



THK G()I.np:N HOUR 

The crimson tints above are softened bv this mcHow 
glow and are exquisitely blending, in indescribable 
transitions of light and color. 

The slo\vl_v floating clouds above the western horizon 
appear to the exalted imagination of the beholders as 
islands of the blessed drifting on a golden sea. They drift, 
they float, they separate and change color, revealing with 
ever}^ change of form and tint a greater glory of the sun. 

Now bursts ui)on our enraptured gaze the very apo- 
theosis of the sunset hour. The cloud forms are scattered 
to the right and left, and the delicate tints of color are 
overwhelmed in a last transcending flood of light. The 
sun has touched the transfigured edge of the western 
hills. It gently glides, imperceptibly, below them, pour- 
ing out, as it settles lower, above and abroad, in a last 
benediction of color and light, a glory wliich transforms 
the face of nature, and the faces, as well, of two enrap- 
tured children of God, who stand, hushed and breathless, 
in awe of His revelation. 

This is the golden hour; this, the Spiritual Light which 
will never fail ; but will shine on, in memory, forever. 

" At the wood edge, what time the sun sank low, 
We lingered speechless, being loath to leave 
The cool, the calm, the quiet totich of eve, 
And all the glamour of the afterglow. 
We watched the purple shadows lengthen slow. 

Saw the swift swallows through the clear air cleave. 
And bats begin their wayward flight to weave, 
Then rose reluctantly, and turned to go. 



79 




X 



5 

X 



TME GOLDEN HOUR 

" But ere wu won buyond the warder trees, 

From out tlie dim deep copse that hid the swale 

Welled of a sudden flutelike harmonies 

Floodinjj the twilight, scale on sds'ery scale. 

As though we heard, far o'er the sundering seas. 
The pain and passion of the nightingale."* 

With clasped hands and beating liearts we silenll}' 
descend tlie hill. The light of day is over and evening- 
draws near. We reach the winding road below which 
leads ns to the home. A distant tingle of the solitary 
herd bell breaks the hushed silence ; and the mellow 
sound of the vesper chime is faintly borne on the evening 
wind from the hamlet's little church across the river. The 
first dear star of evening shines dimly through the darken- 
ing blue; the mist}' half-moon grows more brilliant in the 
twiliLrht, and the "-atherinu' dusk is settling on the farm. 




Swt'fl is Kvenin^'s Triiiuniil Huui 



Itv }•'«% H. r,i 



*" The Wood Thrush at Eve," by Clinton Scollasd, in the Atlantic Monthly for July, 1899. 

81 



AT DUSK 



Chapter VIII 



AT DUSK 



WITH dusk, an indescribable spirit 
of contentment settles upon the 
farm. In the softly waning li.trht 
one wanders to the barns, after 
the (golden hour of enjoyment of 
the sunset glories from the hill. 
The dim outlines of the horses' 
rounding backs can scarce be 
discerned from the stable door, 
and the faithful animals seem 
larger than they really are in the 
dusk. The comfortable sound of munching bay is dis- 
tinct in the stillness of the evening, and the cheerful 
chirrup of the crickets in the lofts above. The occa- 
sional rattle of a halter's ring against the iron of the feed 
box makes softer and more peaceful, l)v contrast, the 
gentle sound of evening. 

Then one turns to the stabled cows in the large barn 
across the yard. And here the same sense of peaceful 
content is emphasized. The fodder rustles against the 



85 



WOODLAND AND MEADOW 



stanchions in a most sootliin^:; wav. ami thr sound 
ot tossin.Li horns and an occasional swish of tails are 

the ai)])roiiriatc accom- 
])aniincnts. 

As one i)asscs under 
the shells in ret urn in, u:;, the 
slee]»\' fowls are partialh' 
aroused and utter their 
drowsy ni'^lit chutt^'r in a 
mild surjirise which is not 
cilarm. They are perched 
u])on the "sprin,^;" cart, 
the wooden body of the old 
tarm wa^on, and well nii^h 
exerywhere else beneath 
the cover, save on the 
])oles which the thou.y;ht tul 
farmer has placed there 
tor their express accom- 

ByJ.M.C.GK..,.: j-nodatiOH. 

And so out a;j;,-nn in the e\enin^\ now under the 
stars. 'I'here remains hut the l.aintest tin^e of darken- 
\n'^ red ahoxe the western hills, the friendly stars are 
brij^htly jj;lislenin.L:; now in the deep blue ot the evenin,!,^ 
sky ; the hall-moon makes soft, lon.t;' masb^es ot shadow, 
with the barns, the house and the lari;e trees standini^' 
near, as she j4;li(les from beneath the.^entl\' passinij; elomls. 




I WII.K.HT 



86 



o 




WOODI.AXD AND MEADOW 

A l)c\y ot lately ucaiicd chicks arc staiilcd in their 
orjihancd sleep as the ])asserhy stei)s close to their cosv 
restin.tj; i)lace. They hi\e cuddled tor niulual warmth 
and com tort beside a larj^'e stone neai" the path, where 
the shelterin.i^- grass grows a little higher on one side. 
Hut tlu'y (juickly siibsi<le in sleei)y assurance as t 1k' toot 
falls more distantly on the \)n{h to the house, and their 
contented " peep-a-peep, peeps" are the last domestic 




I.ATIC IIAKVRSTERS 



By Ge.i. VV. NiiRKis. M.D. 



sounds of farm life to reach the ears of him w ho passes 
along. 

It is good io stand unco\ered here, on a night like this, 
under the summer stars. The cool night breezes come 
up trom the meadows, sweet with the jiertumcs ot the 
newh' mown haw The solitary w hippoorwill is heanl in 
the more distant wood below xoicing hi^ e\ening praise. 
All nature seems composing toi' the jjcace ot the night. 

88 



AT DUSK 

The farmer's day is over, the evening "chores" are 
done ; all creatures of the farm are content, and rest 
awaits the man. Rest and love ! Cannot he too be con- 
tent? With uncovered head and opened soul a moment 
longer he lingers here, alone with God. " * * * * Then, 
the light and warmth and the love within. 




' Now was the day departing and the air embrowned with shadows" 



By Gko. W. XoKi-is, M.D, 



89 



WHEN IT RAINS 



Chapter IX 



whf:n it rains 




|HAT do you do when it rains?" 
sometimes asks the casual visitor 
at Hilltop. A rainy day is often 
the l)usiest day of the week on 
the farm, for indoor occupations 
and necessary work about the 
barns and farm buildings, which is 
neglected in fair weather, accumu- 
lates for the rain}^ day which is sure to come sooner 
or later. 

The rain}" day is the stock-taking time for the me- 
thodical farmer. In it he straightens out his affairs, he 
puts things in order, he balances his books. The little 
jobs he can never find time to do on pleasant days he 
readily performs when skies are dark. 

And what a day it is for the children ! The old tool 
house is transformed to the busiest of workshops on 
rainy da3's. There are gigantic kite frames to be made, 

93 



WOODI.AM) AM) MKADOW 

boat models to be lasliioiK'd, ;in<l all sorts and conditions 
of lliin,!j;s, usctul and ol no discowrabk- nsc, to l)c con- 
structed or taken ajjart. 

Then llicre is the oM attic oN'cr the "ell." tilled with 
the accunmlation of the <j;enerations, wonderfnl and mys- 
terions things for curious childhood to examine — 1)roken 
toys and once familiar playtliin,iL.!;s which haw been dis- 
carded in former years, or the castaways ot older brothers 
and sisters. What more <leli(i;ht ful things than these 
when discovered b\' the ea<j;er children on rainy-day 
excursions in the old farm attic. They return to the 
workshop in the barn laden with their new found treas- 
ures, and rehal)ilitate them in iheirown orii.;-inal ways. 

But when, after se\'eral days of continuin^i;' rain, as 
sometimes happens in the country, there has been time 
and to spare for all the indoor duties to be done, there 
comes a time when nothing i)arlicular is i)ressin<.r_ 
when, in fact, the larmer is free to take u]) some new and 
congenial occupation, or do nothing at all, as his mood 
may incline. 

Absent friends, always rememl)crcd, are especially 
brou,tj;ht lo mind, when i1k' ha])ii\' hours enio\'e(l loL^ether 
in former da\"s, like these on the tarm, are b\' them re- 
called. 'Their cherished letters are lin,L:;erin<.il\' reread 
and read a;.i;ain, and ihe warm res])onse which ihcv al- 
ways awaken is ^i\en full and free exjiression in this 
hap])y hour ot leisure. What is so good as writing thus 

94 




LOWEKV \VEATH1U> 



By A. HuKSLE\ HiNKi: 



WOODLAND AND MEADOW 

to the friend of one's youth — unless it be the receivinj^ of 
such a letter from the absent one. 

"Retirement, rural quiet, friendshiji, books. 
Ease and alternate labor," 

writes the ])()et, Thomson, in his "Seasons," and so from 
distant friends we turn to those other friends wbo are 
never absent, silent or speakin;^ as our mood may be. 
There the\' are in tdlurin^ rows, tew in nnml)L'r 1)u1 
choice of s])irit. With books, as with i)eo])le, it is ever 
true that there are no friends like the old friends. New 
books and i)apers come to our farm, but always to the old 
favorites we return wlien time gives opportunity b)r con- 
genial reading. We glance along the tamiliar backs ot 
Emerson's gracious volumes, Thoreau's ICxcursions and 
Life at Walden or on the Merrimack £ind Concord ri\ers. 
There, too, are the books of Hui roughs and ot Richard 
Jeiifries, with their lellow lovers of nature, both here and 
in England. "I'he Old South" stories of Page and Cable, 
so different and yet all so charming. The delightful 
" I^rue and I " of Curtis, which never fails to l)riug its lull 
mead of cheer and jo\' on rain\- afternoons like this, read 
here in the cozv nook for books, or taken to the barn and 
enjoyed iii>ou the fragrant hay, where tirst we teh the 
tender charm ot these gentle friends and lo\ers. And 
here are poets, too — 

" Oootl to have a poet to fall back upon." 
96 



W(X)DLAND AND MKADOVV 

as Edward Rowland Sill. Inmself a faxoriti' \nK-\, has 
naixrly siin,^'. 

" Pure Longfellow, great Emerson, 
And all that Shakespeare's world can give." 

Burns, who was farmer loo, as well as poet and ])hi- 
losojiher, and Paul Laurence Dunbar, the Hums ot our 
own South. 

We lake to the hay to-day the farm lyrics of our dear 
Hoosier poet, James Whitcomh Riley, and as we re-read 
"The Harper," an old faxorite, restin<^ at lull ]cn;j;th up- 
on the clo\'cr under llie raflers and di i])pin.L:; shin,iL:;les, we 
are taken hack to earlier days wdK'U 

"The rain above, and a mother's love, 
.\nd God's companionship ! " 

made the world and life fresh and hrii^ht. 

" Patter and drip and tinkle ! 
And there was the little bed 
In the corner of the garret. 

And till,- rafters overhead ! 

" And there was the little window — 
'I'inkle and drip and drip ! 
'rhe rain above and a mother's love. 
And (rod's companionshij) ! " 

"The rain above, and a mother's love," and ■""■ " ■"'■ " 
"The rafters oxerhead " become sinjrularly l.iuiiliar 
■;:■ •::■ ■;:- •::■ ••'fjnkle and diip aiul di'i])" ■"■ "■ ■'•■ ■■■■ and .^ently 
and tenderly descends the delicious unconsciousness that 
rarely falls to mortals save to the farmer's boy. 

9S 



WHEN IT RAINS 

On ret urn in. ij; to the honse in the clearing; lij^hl of the 
late afternoon, our little boy, who has a taste for dippinjy 
in the books, old and new, on shut-in da^^s like these, 
meets us proudl_\' at the door with a new discover}'. In 
an old volume of hymns he has found some verses which 
" exactly describe our farm" (by changing here and there 
a word or phrase), and so he has been bold to make, and 
reads with much delight, the following paraphrase of 
Faber : 

There is a power to bless 
In Hilltop's loneliness. 

In woods and mountain places ; 
A virtue in the brcjok. 
A freshness in the look 

Of meadows' joyful faces. 




I. Ill IKS L1KI-. K \I\ 



L.ofC. 



99 



PHOTOGRAPHING OiN THE FARM 



Chapter X 



PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 




N pleasant afternoons, in the 
fall of the year, when the 
atmosphere is clearest and 
the cloiul-forms most beauti- 
ful, the alluriuo; landscape 
of the farm is most tempting 
for the camera. Then, too, 
the da3's are cool and brisk, 
and invite a breezy tramp 
over the hills in search of the 
picturesque. There are har- 
vest scenes to be treasured, 
stul)l)led corn-fields — 

" Kind o' lonesome-like, but still 
A-preaching sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill," 

as the genial Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley, has 
so fascinatingh' sung to us ; and more extended land- 
scapes, with magnificent cumuli-cloud skies — all to be 
photographed at this time of the year more successfully, 
perhaps, than at any other season. 

On such days, I am afraid, the farmer with a camera, 

103 



\N()()1)I AM) AM) MKADOVV 



who lias a weakness tor picltires. finds that tliis weakness 
is slron,L;;er than his sense of the duties to l)e ])er- 

fonned. and ihe 
" liired man " is 
left unaided to 
do the necessary 
" chores." while 
Ij the amateur ])lio- 
to^rapher. who is, 
after all. only an 
amateur — not a 
" real " -~ farmer, 
as his little son 
has observinjjjly 
remarked, wan- 
ders afield in 
search of the pic- 

•■THF. PATIENT l)ONKh\ By H. \V. KiLiii i.^ tUreS(|Ue. 

lie has not tar to ,1^0 nor lon,!.^ to seek, for pictures 
abound at the very door of a Xew l^n}j;land larm. In- 
deed, e\'en the familiar, domestic scenes around the 
farm-house itself, and the harn-xard too, are most suc- 
cessful in jihotographs. Here are ^r()U])S of merry chil- 
dren to he taken, frolicking:; with their jiatient donkey or 
playing about the barn door as litlk' larmers ; the sunny 
barn-vard. with faNorile cattle 01" horses ]irominent in 
the foreground unconsciously assumiu,^;; the picturesque 




104 



PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 

groups which they always so naturally seem to form; 
and simple fence corners, overgrown with a tangled 
mass of hoi>-vine, woodbine and clematis in the generous 
provision of Nature. 

To illustrate the picture possibilities of a short walk- 
in the immediate vicinity of our farm-house, 1 exi)()sed 
the camera one afternoon tive times in rather (|uick suc- 
cession on the road leading to the house from the to]) of 
our hill. Each exposure was made only a few feet iron": 
the preceding one, and the result of all the exposures, 
while not particularly successful as technical photo- 
graphs, Avere, I 
think, about of 
equal interest pic- 
torially. 

The first plate 
is shown in the 
initial illustration 
to this paper. The 
next, taken from 
the center of the 
same road onh* a 
short distance 
f r o m the first 
standpoint, shows 




FRIKNDS 



liy H. VV. Kii-iuKN 



the turn in the road, and the tops of the Wrmont hills 
dimlv seen in the distance on the other side ot the ri\'er. 



■05 



PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 

I then walked a little farther alon,o; and plaeed the eam- 
era on the side of the hill and made another exposure. 
In this ])ietiire is shown a deeided change of sk}', such as 
one may ohserve in the country so often at this time of 
the year. The soft, ohscuring- clouds suddenly bright- 
ened, St) that their outlines became indistinct when pho- 
tographed, and made it impossible to save the distance, 
even by a considerabl}^ shorter exposure. 

1 then stepped upon the road again and walked along 
to where the old orchard skirts the highway. It was 
growing later now, and the afternoon clotids once more 
assumed the charming subdued color which reproduces 
so beautifully in a photograph when correctly timed ; 
the branches of the trees are delicately drawn against 
the afternoon sky. and the top of the barn is just appear- 
ing in the distance over the crest of the hill. 

The last scene of all is the farm-house itself, softly 
outlined in the fading light. The Vermont mountains 
appear dimly in the distance beyond the Connecticut, 
and the setting sun is suggested, rather than shown, by 
the breaking light of the clouds overhead. The faithful 
farm dog happens to l)e standing in the center of the 
road, looking very natural there in the landscape, as I 
expose my last plate. 

A walk in any other direction would have been found 
to abound in as man}' subjects for the camera. Wher- 
ever you go in the countrv, whether it be across the 

107 




X 



PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 

tields, through the woods, or over the hills, attractive 
pictures are to be seen at every hand, and nothing helps 
us to appreciate and enjoy them so much as the modern 
hand-camera. 

There is also a large and fruitful held for the camera 
on the farm in photographing natural objects in their 
local setting. The study of the natural sciences is greath' 
assisted by such photographs, and is certainly rendered 
much more interesting and instructive. Growing speci- 
mens of wild flowers make loveh" pictures in their natural 
setting in the woods or meadows, and may be easily pho- 
tographed even by the beginner. To catch the living 
specimens of l)irds or the wild creatures of the woods is 
not so simple a matter, though this, too, is often very suc- 
cessfully done. The value of the camera to science in this 
connection is only l)eginning to be demonstrated, and 1 
think the work of such successful students as Mrs. Mabel 
Osgood Wright, Dr. and Mrs. Thomas S. Roberts, Cherry 
and Richard Kearton, Dr. R. W. Shufeldt, Mr. Frank M. 
Chapman, and others, is not appreciated at its real value. 

The apparatus which 1 have found, all things con- 
sidered, to be the most serviceable on the farm is the 
folding hand-camera making pictures four by hve inches 
in size. Such a camera can be carried conveniently in 
the hand and used (juickly for "snap-shots" at fleeting 
subjects ; or it can be employed with a light tri])od tor 
making more exact pictures, such as architectural photo- 

109 



PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 

graphs of buildings, out-of-door groups, and carefully 
composed landscape and extended pictures. 

I alwa3's use plates of moderate sensitiveness, and, 
notwithstanding their greater weight than films, find 
them, on the whole, much more satisfactory My cam- 
era is arranged so that three double light plate-holders, 
carrying six plates in all, can be conveniently stored in 
it. The}^ do not weigh appreciably more than a "loaded" 
roll-holder, and, as a rule, six exposures are all I can 
make with a proper amount of discrimination on an 
ordinary outing. For a longer trip, three extra holders of 
four-l>y-tive size can very easily be carried in the pocket, 
which provides for an even dozen exposures in all. 

Photographing scientific subjects, such as the native 
birds and animals in their natural surroundings, requires 
rather special apparatus, and for this kind of work 1 
would refer the amateur to the Messrs. Kearton's two 
books" on this subject, particularly to the chapters de- 
scribing their apparatus and their methods of using it. 

Developing and i)rinting can be put out to be done 
by a professional who makes a business of this work, or 
it can very easily be accomi)lished by one's self on the 
farm. Personally, I prefer to do all the work myself, as 
I can then conti'ol all the details of the various processes, 
and come nearer to obtaining the efifect desired than 
when 1 leave it to an outsider to perform who has not the 
same interest which I have in the result. 



*" With Nature and a Camera " and "Wild Life at Home." 

I I I 



WINTER DAYS 



Chapter XI 



wintp:r days 




vl' 'Jk^'V'; FTER the inevitable " lanuarv 
thaw," we usually have our cold- 
est weather and the deepest 
snows in New Hampshire. 

The day may have been a 
genial, sunny one, suggestive of 
the near approach of spring. 
The water has monotonously 
dripped, dripped all day from the melting snow on barn 
roofs and l:)uil;lings, and in the middle of the road the 
snow is soft and wet, letting the sleigh runners in deep 
as the horses splash along the country liighwa}'. 

But during the night the wind changes, the mercury 
falls abruptly many points, and a complete transforma- 
tion takes place. We awaken in the morning to find 
ourselves in a new world, glistening and glittering in 
transcendent purity. The trees are bowed with the 
weight of their celestial fruitage. Bushes and shrubs 
are a mass of dazzling brilliancy, flashing back prismatic 
radiance from thousands of iridescent ice jewels. Long 

115 




rilK Uk'KiK IN WlNTEk 



lt> K. KlckbME^ KK, Jh, 



WINTER DAYS 

and ponderous icicles lianjj; from the barn eves, where 
3'esterday the snow water incessantly dropped. And the 
snow underfoot crunches and creaks, and is crusty and 
icy in the roadway and paths. The broad white stretches 
of hillside and meadow sparkle and glisten in the morn- 
ing sun. The air is so crisp and clear, and "hollow," 
as the farmer calls it, that well-known distances seem 
not half so great as they really are. The hoary head of 
old Lafayette, for instance, Avhich is at least fifteen miles 
away from our standpoint in the picture, appears to be 
not over five ; while Mount Washington itself, which is 
over twenty-five miles distant from our hill, in an air- 
line, seems to be about as near as Lafayette. 

After enjoying these distant views, we turn ti> the 
woods, where the most wonderful winter pictures await 
us. Hei^e, as James Russell Lowell has so beautifully 
described in his vision of Sir Launfal, we behold, in awe : 

' ■ Down through a frost-leaved forest-crypt, 
Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees 
Bending to counterfeit a breeze ; 
Sometimes the roof no fretwoik knew, 
But silvery mosses that downward grew ; 
Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief 
With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf ; 
Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear 
For the gladness of heaven to shine through, and licre 
He had caught the nodding bulrush-tops 
And hung them thickly with diamimd drops, 
That crystaled the beams of moon and svm ; 
And made a star of every one : 
No mortal builder's most rare device 

1 1 7 









THE WAV OF BEAUTY 






'^*'(Sei« 



Bv B. \V. Ki 



WINTER DAYS 

Could match this winter-palace of ice ; 

'Twas as if every image that mirrored lav 

In his depths serene through the summer day, 

Each fleeting shadow of earth and sky, 

Lest the happy model should be lost, 

Had been mimicked in fairy masonry 

By the elfm bviilders of the frost." 

We come to the close of another winter day, tired 
with our lonjj; tramp through the silent woods and over 
the snow-clad hills, and hungry, ah, so hungry" ! A snap- 
ping wood hre is merril}' blazing in the open fireplace, 
lighting up the cozy farm-house sitting-room with a ros_v 
glow, and tlirovving fitful shadows on the quaintly 
papered walls and low ceiling. 

" Shut in from all the world without, 
We sat the clean-winged hearth about. 
Content to let the north wind roar 
In baffled rage at pane and door. 
While the red logs before us beat 
The frost line back with tropic heat ; 

What matter how the night behaved ? 
W^hat matter how the north wind raved ? 
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 
Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow." 

With the setting of the suu another change has been 
taking place, the "north wind" has indeed l^egun to 
"rave" as the lines of Whittier suggest, and snow is 
falling again, driving against the window panes with 
ever-increasing force. The snow continues all night, 
and most of the following day, until by the next even- 

119 




^^' 



■»y V 



\ 



:^^ 



r- - ■■ Ml. ■ 









y 



WINTER DAYS 

ing it lies deep around the little farm-house. snu.t;Iy 
shutting it in, and completeh' obliterating the road in 
front. It has tilled n\) all the paths around the buildings 
and lies deepest of all in the leatfess woods. To-da\' it is 
as light and dry as the finest me^d or sand. It thickly 
covers ever^^thing. To (juote again from "The Snow- 
l)ound" of Whittier, — 

"We looked upon a world unknown, 
On nothing we could call our own. 
Around the glistening wonder bent 
The blue walls of the firmament, 
No cloud above, no earth below, 
A universe of sky and snow ! 
The old familiar sights of ours 

Took marvelous shapes ; strange dome.= and towers 
Rose up where st}' or corn-crib stood ; 
Or garden wall, or belt of wood ; 
A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed. 
A fenceless drift what once was road." 

No time for idling now ; paths are to be made and 
the road broken through. A profusion of snow like this 
is what the provident farmer has been eagerly waiting 
for to "log in" his wood from the forest, where it has 
been felled and piled earlier in the season. The snow 
fills up all the ineiiualities of the rude wood-roads, so that 
what would otherwise be an almost impossible task be- 
comes now comparatively easy. The patient oxen wal- 
low along in the fieecy wbiteness readily hauling tbe 
huge logs which slip along on the snow behind ; the 
accompanying men are on snow shoes. 

I 2 I 



WOODI.ANl) AM) MEADOW 

So. with seasonable recreations and lai)ors the short 
winter days are liapi)ily tilled. Vhc i|uiet, restful even- 
ings are no less enjoyed, and w hen. at an earlv liour, we 
betake ourselves to bed. sleep soon steals on, 

" . . . as slc'L']) will do. 
When licarts are ligti' and lite is new." 




I'DETIC WlNTliR 



By li. \V. KiiiUKS 



1 2. 



Amateur Photography 



A Practical Guide for the Beginner 

By W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS 

Revised and enlarged. Fifth Edition. Illustrated with many half-tones and line engravings. 
12mo. Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 75 cents. 

THE STANDARD HANDBOOK AND GUIDE 
FOR THE AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER 

Chapters on Apparatus, the Dark-rcom, Printing and Toning, Instantaneous Photography, 
Flash-light, Composite Photography, Portraiture, etc , etc. 



EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS 



'• Huth by lext and illustrati<)n the volume i^ a 
tiiorouKli instructor in photography." 

— /rtt£r-Oecati. Chicago. 

" The best guide that has ever come ro our atten- 
tion. A model of the publisher's art." 

Journa/, Auguitti^ Mi'. 

"We can ccinceive of no more appropriate gift for 
holiday time than this b autiful book."' 

(Stntrai Chriitinn Ath'ocatc. 
" The book Is reliable as a guide." 

— Xew y'ork 'I'ribune 
'* A useful, practical guide for beginners." 

— Outinp. 
" A most valuable handbook for ama'eurs." 

— Boston rravt-ie>-. 
" The work is practical and helpful." 

— 'J'hc Interior^ Chicago. 
' A practical guide for \\ic beginner." 

— Cleveland Plaindiahr, 

' Full ijf clear and piactical instructions." 

— AVtc York Ob^t'ri'cr. 
* A valual)le little le.xt-book for amateurs." 

Boston Transcript. 
'This work will be hailed with d^'light by thai 
large and growing class of amateur phott»gra- 
phers."— .-J merican Journal v/ Lducation. 

" One of the best presents to be found for any per- 
son interested in photography.'* 

— ll'csttrn Sportsman. 
■ This vf lume is thoroughly up lo date." 

Christian Advocate. 



"A very timely publication."— A'tim State /ourna/. 

** It is clear, concise, and easily understood." 

— Montpetter Evening A rgus. 
" The very best guide for the amateur photogra- 
pher." — Kennebec Journal. 
" The technique is made so plain that no one who 
wishes to master the art can fail." 

— Chrisiian Evan/^elitt. 
" A compendium of all the latest processes, from 
the ch«)ire of subject and the p:>sing to the 
mounting of penny piclures " 

—Pittiburg't DesP'itfh. 

*' Contains all that is new and original in the an " 

— Stbra<:ka State Journal. 

" He writes for beginnersand he never forgets it." 
Christian Standard. 

".Mr. Adams" treatment of his su jecl is clear, and 
he gives a large amount information in a con- 
cise iorm.'^-~f/art/o'd Con rant. 

"Thf popularity of this work is shown by the fact 
that the present is its fifth edition." 

— AVw Orleans Picayune. 

"A compact, original and decidedly useful text 

book." — The Living A/e. 
'■ One of the best primers in existence." 

— AVw y'ork PretS. 

" The bo'ik is wholly practical." Public Opinion. 

"The whole rteld is g'mc over in this manner 
t)ricfly and clearly. A b?M>k of instruction in 
clear and >implc terms." 

— fonrnal o/ Education. 



Sunlight and Shadow 

A Book for Photographers 

AiiKitcur and Protessional 
By W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS 

With more than 100 beautiful photo-engravings, many of them full-page pictures. Printed on heavy wood-cut 
paper, with liberal margins and gilt edges. Beautifully and substantially bound in art canvas, with gilt design. 
Second Edition. Third Thousar.d. Price, in a box, $2.50 

It contains Chapters and Illustrations b/ such well-known photographic writers and workers as 

H. P. ROBINSON ALFRED STIEGLITZ A. HORSLEY HINTON 

R. EICKEMEYER, Jr. ' W. B. POST J. WELLS CHAMPNEY 

B. ). FALK ALEXANDER BLACK W. A. ERASER 

HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF SERMONETA and the MARQUIS DE ALFARRAS 

It covers the field fully, a-, shojwn by the following 

CONTENTS 

The Choice of Subject Outdoor Portraits and Groups Marines 

Landscape Without Figures The Hand Camera Photography at Night 

Landscape With Figures Instantaneous Photography Lighting in Portraiture 

Foregrounds Winter Photography Photographing Children 

The Sky Ait in Grouping 

EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS 

" If any one questions the fact that photography is becoming a fine art he only needs to look over the 
charming pages of this volume and study the handsome illustrations ""—Ez-angeiis/, 

*' It seems hai dly decent to resist any longer the claim certain phases of photography have to acceptance 
as high ^rX..^'' — Current Literature. 

" The illustrations, which are so handsome as to make the volume an artistic treasure, aside from its help- 
fulness, are made from cjriginal photographs from nature.'—///^ Interior. 

"■ An excellent book for the amateur photographer who has made some pro^jress in the practice of his art, 
and may be quite as useful to the professiona'." - 7'/te Art Amateur. 

" Its recommendations are universally judicious and practical."— The Critic. 

" It contains valuable information as to the best methods of reaching perfection in pholcgrapy." 

Minneapolis Tribune. 

'* All very tasteful, very attractive."— Z.//<'rrtrj' Keivs. 

" An appropriate gift to a friend interested in photography as an zm.^i^mt.'"'— Cleveland Plain Dealer. 

"Altogether it makes the most handsome photographic book we have ever seen."' 

— The riiotogyaphic Times. 

" It would be difficult to imagine a mure delightful introduction to pictorial photography. 

— Wilson s FhotOf,} aphic Magazine. 

'* It is deserving of a hearty welcome, and should be in the hands of every one inleresied in the art." 

-Snap Shots ^ 

'We know no book or treatise on art from which so much may be learned so well and with the expendi- 
ture of so little time." — //if Amtrican Amateur Photographer. 

" A charming gift to any one who delights in picture making by photography." 

The A mencan Journal of Photography. 

■'A book that will delight the heart of ph"tographers, whether amateur or professional."- CA/V/?^^' Post. 

" Will be found very delightfjl and instructive."' — The Brooklyn EagU. 

*' Shows that the camera may really be an instrument of fine zxX.'''' —Phiiadelpkia 7 imts, 

" The greatest photographic publication that has appeared this year."— 7'he I^hotographic Rnorder. 



/// Nature V 



Imntre 



Chapters on Pictorial Photography 



By W. I. LINCOLN ADANLS 

Profusely Illustrated by Original Photographs from Nature. Large 8vo, cloth (uniform, 
except in decoration, with "Sunlight and Shadow"). Third Thousand. 

Price, full gilt, in a box, $2.50 

An even more .ittr.ictivc book th.m " Sunlight .ind Shadow," treating itx .\ubiect 
more from the point of view of portraiture, fif^ure composition, genre, etc. 



Landscapes and Figures 
Figures and Landscapes 
Genre 



ITS TOPICS ARE 

Telling a Story 

Models 

The Nude in Photography 

Portraiture at Home 



Children 

Photographing Flowers 
Interiors 



ILLUSTRATIONS BY 



STIEGLITZ 

ANNAN 

FALK 



TROTH 

PUYO 

RYDER 



DUMONT 

DAY 

ADAMS 



FRASER ROBINSON 

KEIGLEY CHAMPNEY 

And Many Others 



EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS 

'" As an indication of what ni.iy In- accfniplislicd when iht- Ijl-^i clIurtN ul plmtoKraphcr, plaie-maker and 
printer arc put forth, this mat.,'niticent book is at the head of its class."— />Vj/o« limes. 

" It is a majrnihcL-ntly printed and sumptuously illustrated volume containing chapters cniwded with 
practical hints.' —Christian Endeavor iVorid. 

" A handsome volume which presents the artistic side of latter-day photography to its best advantage. The 
pictuies are selected with jjreat care, and are among the best that we have ever seen grouped together. The 
work is ahogether charming and appeals to the highest artistic sense."— ^Vf-tc York Times 

'* Nothing finer in the way of tine book-making and half-tone work has been produced this season. The 
best that the world can produce in the way of photography the author gives us in illustration of his sug- 
gestive te.xl. "--/-/:'/«<■- Chinch. 

"No writer on matters that interest the photographer, whether amateur or professional, has a larger 
audience than \^. I. Lincoln Adams, "/fare/ord Fott. 

" Another splendid work on piciorial photography."— .S7. Lout's Globf Democrat. 

" \o photoymphcr, professional or amateur, can fail to derive inspiration and encouragement from the 
beautifully illustrated pages of Mr. W. I. Lincoln Adams * In Nature's Image.' " — S'e-.u York Sun. 

"This e.\<]uisite work ought t.^ be added to the library of every amateur photographer " 

— i he Xort/nvrstern Amntrw . 

" Wc cordially recommend it to our readers as cm()haticaHy thr photographic book of the year." 

i^'iison''s i*HOtog*ttphic Afngazitie. 

" It is a book that all photographers, whether profession jI or amateur, will delight in." — H'orcester S/*y. 
"The book itself is an artistic treasure. Printed on heavy, cream laid paper, full ii'lt. "^^'ilh over a hundred 
exquisite illustrations, it Is in every way a superb n'xii h^^a]x.." —I'rovidenie /ourntti. 

" One of the most beautiful books recently pulilished. It is in every way a charming book." 

— Brooklyn Standard Union. 

"They (the illustrations) are so wtll done as to make the most difficult problems that confront the ama- 
teur seem exsy, and they make the book a delight to the eye." — lirooklyn Li/e. 

" There are nearly loo reproductions ofTeied. and the wide range of subjects treated shows that the cam- 
era has invaded the brush-and-pencil artist's domain, and has accomplished wcnderful and artistic things." 

- Chicago jLTening Pott. 

" Mr. Adams is himself an expert with th? camera, and each chapter contains practical suggestions based 
on years of experience in the different branches of photography."— Chieagi* Diai. 



H 96 



89 








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